Strangers in Paradise
by Jacta est Alea
Summary: Jack and Claire get out of the city


Note: This is a response to a challenge and quite frankly a shameless excuse for a "romp." None of the characters mentioned belong to me, blah, blah, blah, property of Dick Wolf and Co.  
  
"Not again," she mumbled as she tossed a pillow over her head. "If I just shut my eyes and pretend like I don't hear it." it was too late, she was awake now. "Those rotten bastards," she muttered to herself. "Just once I'd love to get a full night's sleep without those God damned garbage men waking me up." She looked at her clock, 4:30. Time to park her car on the other side of the curb before the street cleaners came through and her car was towed. "Damn this city," she mumbled. Sleepy eyed and in a haze she stumbled around her apartment, looking for her robe and shoes. Finding them, she stepped outside into the hallway, taking the elevator to the lobby. As she rode down on the deserted elevator her thoughts drifted to the night before. ************************************************************************  
She had fought with him again. Not the type of fighting they used to do in the beginning. Not two impassioned people arguing about issues with substance, feeding off each other's heat. Not the kind of fighting that usually called for an urgent release from their built up tension. She remembered the nights after fights like that, how they would give all of themselves to one another, desperately trying to fill each other's insatiable need. It was on a night like that in which he had first told her he loved her and she remembered how her world seemed to fall into place. No, last night was nothing like that. She fought to provoke him, to get some kind of emotion from him, anything to replace the nothingness he seemed to exhibit towards her now. He, on the other hand, fought to merely quell the annoyance brought on by the attack, anything so he could resume the indifferent attitude he had taken on of late. ************************************************************************  
"Damn you Jack McCoy," Claire thought as the elevator doors opened. The cold night air startled her as she stepped onto the street. She folded her arms in front of her trying to keep herself warm as she attempted, through her sleep-deprived fog, to remember where she parked her car. Her eyes scanned the cars on the street, pausing for a moment to examine a freshly dropped sedan, stripped of all of its tires and resting on cinderblocks. "Somebody's in for a shock this." her voice trailed off. "Oh God," she cried as realization set in, "my car!" "Damn this city to hell," she exclaimed to an empty street. ************************************************************************  
Claire reluctantly boarded the IRT southbound for work. Without any other way to get to the office she was forced to use the subway. "This is shaping up to be some day," she thought, "probably not worth getting out of bed." She glanced around the train, "well of course, no seats, why would I expect anything different." Claire walked to the side of the car and grabbed an overhead strap to steady herself. "What the hell," she cried as she quickly withdrew her hand and inspected it. An unidentifiable grimy film that had been on the overhead strap now coated her hand. "Ugh," she sighed, reaching into her purse for a tissue. Without warning, the train lurched forward reeling Claire backward into the man standing behind her. In the jolt she lost her grasp on the cup of coffee she had bought before boarding the train, spilling it all over herself and the man she had bumped into. Apologizing profusely she pushed herself upright again, assessing the damage. Her white blouse was drenched in coffee which was beginning to burn through to her skin. "Damn this city," was all she could mutter. ************************************************************************  
By the time she made it to work she had made up her mind; Claire Kincaid was taking a vacation. She needed to get away from the DA's office, away from New York, away from Jack. Determined, she headed straight to the personnel office to inform them of her intent to take her entire two weeks of vacation time, as soon as possible. "Looks like you're in luck, Ms. Kincaid," said Nancy, the personnel supervisor, "there's an opening and you should be able to start your vacation time as early as next week." "You simply need to clear it with your direct supervisor and I'll set it up for you." "Wonderful," Claire thought, "I've got to clear it with Jack, this should be interesting."  
  
"He won't even look at me," Claire thought as she stood in front of Jack's desk. He looked terrible, as if he had been up most of the night, eyeing the bottom of a bottle. "Rough night," she asked, immediately regretting that she had. He looked up at her, "Look, I don't want to fight with you today, is there something you came in here for?" His coldness cut her; she looked away to hide her hurt. "I just needed you to sign off on some vacation time for me." She looked back at him to find him still staring at her. She suddenly wanted to hurt him too, just as he had hurt her. "That's right Mr. McCoy, I'm going on vacation without you, without even discussing it with you, I don't need you," she thought to herself. "When," he asked. "Starting next week," she replied. He snickered and shook his head. "Well that's just great, Claire," he said sarcastically. "That is pretty inconvenient considering the McBride case starts next week, but you go right ahead, I can find a replacement for you." Claire bit down hard on her lip to stop the quivering of her chin. "Fine," she managed to say with a forced smile and hurried out the door. Outside, she leaned on the door to his office to collect herself. "Damn him," she muttered under her breath.  
  
"What the hell am I doing," Jack thought to himself as he watched her rush out the door. He buried his face in his hands. He remembered what it was like in the beginning. The butterflies in his stomach when he asked her on their first real date; the flutter in his chest when he worked up the nerve to kiss her for the first time; the anxiousness in the pit of his stomach when she asked him to come up to her apartment for the first time. So much had changed and he had let it. "Good job, Jack," he thought to himself. "You don't remember being so happy in your entire life and you're letting the woman responsible slip through your fingers." He sighed heavily. "It's too late," he said aloud, breaking the silence, "she's already gone."  
  
************************************************************************ Claire waited in the terminal at LaGuardia Airport. She was ready for this; two weeks in Miami with nothing to keep her company but the sun, surf, and cabana boys. More importantly she was getting away from it all. No more filthy, crime infested New York City, no more prosecuting the dregs of society in court, and no more Jack. "I'm an attractive young woman," she reassured herself, "I don't need a man who is going to treat me like dirt, I can have anyone I want." She scanned the terminal for him; he wasn't there. Her heart dropped. She had secretly hoped he would try to find her before she left and beg her not to leave him. "Who am I kidding," she glumly thought, "this is Jack McCoy we're talking about." Flight 239, New York to Miami, now boarding. She rose from her chair, making one last scan of the terminal, nothing. "Yea, I don't need him," she thought, rather unconvincingly, as she headed through the gates.  
  
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"This is completely crazy," Jack muttered to himself, shaking his head. It was Monday morning and he should have been in court starting his opening statements. Instead he was sitting on an airplane headed to Miami, desperately hoping that the one thing that ever made sense in his life hadn't already slipped away. He couldn't let that happen, he knew that now. He recalled the night before, how he had awoken in the darkness and had reached out to hold her; how his heart had dropped when he realized she wasn't there; how ashamed he had felt when he remembered the way he had treated her. He had spent most of the night calling her friends, anyone who would know where she was. He had even gone to her apartment, rifling through her papers, looking for any clues to help find her, luckily finding a travel brochure. He had raced to the airport to catch the first flight out, calling in sick to work from the terminal. "Oh God, what if this doesn't work, he thought, shifting his attention to the present. The thought made his stomach flop, realizing that his efforts might very well all be in vain. He gazed out the window to the land below and hoped that he wasn't too late.  
  
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"Is this a joke?" Jack thought to himself. Driving down A1A, he scanned the hotels, looking for the one he'd seen in Claire's travel brochure and reading the names as he went: The Coconut Palms Inn, The Desert Oasis, The Dolphin Hideaway, The Conch Tavern. "I'm a hell of a long way from Manhattan," he chuckled. "Wait, there it is," he exclaimed as the hotel came into view, "The Pelican Landing Inn." His heart pounded in his ears. This was it; this is where she was. This is where he'd find out once and for all if she still loved him and could forgive him or if he truly had lost her forever. He suddenly felt nauseous and wondered if he had made a terrible mistake in coming. "I could lose everything," he thought as he looked through his window at the ironically cheery looking structure. He pulled his rental car into the parking lot and turned off the engine, still afraid to get out. "If I don't go in now I'll lose her for sure," he said aloud to himself, and at that he stepped out of the car and walked toward the hotel doors.  
  
Jack walked into the dimly lit enclosure, eyes focusing on the check in desk. A heavyset man wearing an unsightly yellow Hawaiian shirt sat behind the desk. "Excuse me, I'm looking for one of your guests." He looked back at Jack uninterested. "I was wondering if you could help me find Claire Kincaid." Irritated, the man flipped through a large brown logbook on the counter. "Room 139," he grumbled toward Jack, pointing his finger in the direction behind him. "Ugh, Thanks," Jack mumbled and started in the direction the man had pointed to. As he walked down the hall another wave of nausea washed over him. He felt the sweat trickling down his neck past the collar of his shirt. Room 131, 133, 135.to his right he passed a glass door leading to a pool area. Out of nervousness he glanced through it. His heart stopped beating. Lying in a lounge chair was Claire.  
  
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Claire listened to the sounds of the waves crashing behind her. Eyes closed, she fidgeted in her seat as she felt the hot sun burning at her skin. "I'm probably going to regret wearing this bikini tonight when I'm burnt to a crisp," she thought to herself. She sighed and remembered when she had bought the bikini in the first place. Jack had promised to take her to Jones Beach for the day and she had decided to torment him with the tiniest red bikini should could possibly find. She silently chuckled as she remembered how they had never made it to the beach, not after he had come to pick her up and had found her wearing it. Instead they had spent the entire day in bed making love. She sighed heavily again. Here she was in paradise, away from it all, and she was still thinking about him. She scolded herself to stop her nonsense. It was then that she heard it, his voice, Jack's voice calling her name, "Claire." She held her breath, afraid to open her eyes, sure she had imagined it. She heard it again, louder this time, "Claire." She quickly opened her eyes. Standing before her was Jack.  
  
"Jack," she shouted in both amazement and bliss. He didn't move, still not sure of her response to finding him there. He suddenly realized that in all his anxiety he had never planned on what he would say once he found her. For a moment they simply looked at each other, their eyes telling one another what they need to hear. "Claire, I'm.I'm so sorry," was all he could muster, looking away from her eyes, afraid at what he might find. He looked so worn, so sad, she thought. "Jack, Jack." tears welled in her eyes, she wasn't sure how to convey what she was feeling, "I love you." He looked back into her eyes, the surprise visible on his face. He moved quickly toward her as she rose from her chair and grabbed her tightly around her middle. Hugging her tenderly, tears stinging his eyes, he softly whispered, "I love you too, Claire." They held each other, afraid to move. He released her enough so she could look up into his eyes, both of them crying now. "Claire, I've been so stupid, I never wanted to hurt you like this, I." She cut him off with her finger to his lips, "Shhh, I know Jack, we love each other, that's all we need to know. We can forget everything and start all over right now." He felt the pit of his stomach quiver as he listened to her. His brain struggled to find the words but didn't seem to be working. Instead he leaned into her and kissed her lightly on her lips.  
  
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Taking his hand in her own, she led him to her room. He stood behind her, stroking her shoulders and lightly kissing her neck as she unlocked the door. Holding her by the hips he obediently followed her as she led him into the bedroom. Once inside he swung her around to face him and pushed her hard against the back of the door. Bending down he kissed her hard, trailing his tongue over her bottom lip, urging her mouth open. She softly whimpered as she felt his tongue enter her mouth, exploring what he knew was his. With both hands slowly stroking his chest she crept her leg up around his side and pulled him closer to her. Her stomach trembled as she felt the hardening bulge in his groin through the light material of her bathing suit. He moaned into her mouth as she ground herself into him, feeling himself lose control. With protest, he pulled away his swollen lips from hers, needing to look into her eyes. Finding them dark with lust, he furrowed his brow, silently asking her permission. "Oh God, Jack, please.please.I need this, I need you," she whispered, afraid that he'd stop. With the conformation he needed, he lifted her up, wrapping her legs around his middle.  
  
Sitting on the edge of the bed he allowed her to straddle him. He hungrily kissed her lips, his hands roaming up her bare stomach, leaving goosebumps in their path. He felt her breath hitch as his hands covered her breasts, her nipples hardening underneath the light material. She whimpered at the sudden loss of his touch as he reached behind her, fumbling with the clasp of her top. She chuckled when she heard him groan in frustration as he awkwardly tried to unfasten it. Reaching behind, she covered his hands with her own, unhooking the clip and letting her top fall to the bed. A throaty growl escaped his lips as his eyes dropped to look at her, exposed and offering herself to him. He lowered his head and captured a taunt bud in his mouth, suckling hungrily. Moaning his name, her hands found his lower abdomen, exploring eagerly. Urgently needing to feel his skin, she quickly pulled the tail of his shirt from his jeans, sliding her hand underneath to rub his stomach. She softly whimpered as he pulled away from her breast, helping her to pull the rest of his shirt over his head.  
  
Growing impatient with his deliberate slowness and needing more, she reached between their bodies and covered his straining arousal with her hand. Releasing a deep groan at her touch, he lifted her and quickly laid her on the bed. Resting above her, his hands lightly trailed her length, finally resting on her hip. Pinning her arms over her head with his other hand, he dipped his hand into the remnants of her bikini. She bucked beneath him as he found her sensitive nub with his fingers, stroking with unbearable slowness. His name escaped her lips as he pushed his fingers into her, her desire for him now obvious from the pooling between her legs. Further aroused by her body's response to him, he forcefully pulled her bikini down her legs, feeling himself losing control. Startled at his roughness, she looked up into his eyes, recognizing his mounting urgency. Freeing her hands from his, she found his belt buckle and hurriedly set to work, feeling her own need increasingly controlling her actions. Pushing his jeans down, her hand moved below the elastic of his boxers, imitating what he had done to her earlier. He cried out as she squeezed his throbbing erection, unconsciously thrusting into her grasp to increase the sensation. "Please Jack, now," she huskily moaned.  
  
Shedding the last of his clothing he moved his body between her legs. Eager, she opened her legs wide for him, urging him inside her. Unable to restrain himself further he entered her quickly, both inhaling sharply at the sensation. He leaned in and heatedly kissed her lips as he relished in the feel of his body in hers. He rocked into her, eliciting from her faint moans each time their bodies met. Savoring her intensifying cries his thrusts became harder and more frenzied, his own release rapidly looming. Reaching between them, he again found her delicate nub with his fingers. Her breath hitched as he rubbed her bundle forcefully, quickly bringing her to the edge of climax. She cried in protest as his hand suddenly stopped its ministrations and his hips stilled. Her eyes met his pleadingly as she bucked her hips, desperately needing for him to resume his movements. As if obtaining what he needed, he thrust into her hard, his eyes never leaving hers. He felt her spasm around him as she came, her contractions bringing him over the edge with her. Franticly driving himself into her body, he came hard, crying out her name as he lost himself in her.  
  
Lying together in a tangled heaving mass he buried his face in her neck, his emotions suddenly too powerful to bear. He listened as their heartbeats returned to normal; afraid to look into the eyes of the woman he loved so much; terrified it would all turn out to be a dream. Pushing himself up and forcing himself to look at her, his heart stopped as he saw the light tears burning her cheeks. "Oh God, Claire," he exclaimed, afraid he had done something wrong. "I shouldn't have pushed, I shouldn't have come down here." Pulling his head down, she quieted him with a light kiss. She pulled away, smiling at him. "I've missed you, Jack. It only took a trip to paradise for you to come back to me." He frowned, suddenly realizing that his trip to paradise would be short lived if he were to make it back to the city by tomorrow. "You know I've got this place for another week," she chuckled mischievously, "just think of all the possibilities." He smiled back at her, appreciating all of the many possibilities. "Damn the city," he thought as he leaned in for a kiss, "damn the city to hell." 


End file.
